Now here’s what I know since that day in the ER when she pieced me back together … nothing—but a few random thoughts.

My new “friend” is distracting, clingy, and obsessed with acronyms, emojis, and phrases like “breakfast soul mates.”

I didn’t want to like her, but she crawled under my skin and swallowed me whole. Now we’re best friends and she’s my new addiction. I'd drink her from a shot glass, snort her up my nose, or inject her into my veins if I could. What I won’t do … is ever tell her that.

She doesn’t know me … I don’t know me. When those missing years come back, I think she will hate me … I think I will hate me.